


A Seduction Between Shots

by bloodsongs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Modelling, PWP, Photography, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Based on the prompt:</b> Suicide Girls and photography, and what naughty girls get up to when their photographers leave them for a spell.</p><p>Mithian still hasn’t moved an inch from where she’s got her knees placed next to Morgana’s thighs, arms around Morgana, and Morgana finds she doesn’t mind at all. She feels a little light-headed, suddenly, because she can smell Mithian’s perfume, this close: warm and strong and floral. It makes her a little reckless. “You know, we do have an hour… whatever shall we do?”</p><p>Oh, but Mithian has the most devious smirk. There’s no mistaking the interest there at all. She’s so fucking attractive, it’s distracting. “What indeed,” Mithian murmurs, leaning in close to whisper in Morgana’s ear, lips brushing against the shell. “You could kiss me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Seduction Between Shots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wawrthur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawrthur/gifts), [alasweneverdo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasweneverdo/gifts).



“And we’ll have a break. I’m going to be heading out for some lunch, do you girls want to join me or just chill here?”

Morgana leans back in her chair from where the other model, Mithian is straddling her, long legs tattooed with lines of poetry entwined with her own and soft dark brown hair blending into Morgana’s curls. “I’m good,” she says lazily to the photographer who’s still lounging by the door, and Mithian laughs above her. “You could bring us back some coffee when you’re done.”

“All good, ladies, I’ll be back within the hour. Don’t be too naughty while I’m gone!”

“It’s not like you’ll ever find out!” Morgana calls out after him, and then she’s face-to-face with Mithian. “So, ah,” she says, smiling but a little unsure, because Mithian is the most gorgeous woman she’s ever worked with on a shoot with this studio and she’s having a bit of a problem staying coherent. “Good work, it was so lovely working with you. Has um, anyone told you you’re absolutely beautiful?”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” Mithian’s voice is gentle and like honey, rich and sensual. It makes Morgana shiver, and at the way Mithian smirks above her, maybe she’s more obvious than she thought she was. “I certainly didn’t expect a pretty young thing like you to be in the shoot today, either. They’re always gorgeous, but you’re something else.”

Mithian still hasn’t moved an inch from where she’s got her knees placed next to Morgana’s thighs, arms around Morgana, and Morgana finds she doesn’t mind at all. She feels a little light-headed, suddenly, because she can smell Mithian’s perfume, this close: warm and strong and floral. It makes her a little reckless. “You know, we do have an hour… whatever shall we do?”

Oh, but Mithian has the most devious smirk. There’s no mistaking the interest there at all. She’s so fucking attractive, it’s distracting. “What indeed,” MIthian murmurs, leaning in close to whisper in Morgana’s ear, lips brushing against the shell. “You could kiss me.”

Morgana laughs, letting her eyes flutter half-shut as she tangles her fingers in Mithian’s lovely, thick locks, pulling her down. “As my lady commands,” she says against Mithian’s mouth, and then they’re kissing, wet and hot, and it’s wonderful. 

She moans when Mithian licks into her mouth, spreading her legs wider in invitation. Mithian pulls away to nuzzle at her neck and up her jaw, kissing down to her shoulder as she trails curious fingers down Morgana’s chest to cup at a breast, thumb brushing slyly at a nipple. Shutting her eyes, Morgana slides her hands down from around Mithian’s neck to hook her thumbs inside Mithian’s dark red thong, a little barely-there thing of lace and lust. “You’re good at that.”

“I like to worship breathtaking women,” Mithian says, running her fingers through Morgana’s hair. Morgana takes the opportunity to press her mouth to the curve of Mithian’s shapely breasts, sucking at a nipple while her fingers slide under the dip of the thong, just grazing the edge where Mithian’s hip meets her thigh. There’s a blossoming tattoo pattern of vines and flowers there, and Morgana finds herself fascinated by it, tracking the routes of leaves and petals. “Oh, mmm, Morgana. You’re not too bad, yourself.”

“I aim to please.” Morgana slides a hand up to play with the nape of Mithian’s neck, liking the way she shudders underneath her touch, before moving the other one southwards to palm at Mithian through her thong. Mithian parts her legs wider, and Morgana slips a finger past the material to tease her, finding her hot and wet. “You’re already soaked through for me,” she breathes, delighted and in awe, continuing to stroke her folds, just teasing at the edges.

Mithian bucks against her a little, shifting to grip at the back of the chair for support, gasping at Morgana’s touch. “Hard not to, it’s been a while— mmmm,  _yes_.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Morgana whispers, grinning up at Mithian as she slides a finger inside, easy-like. “A vision like you, you must’ve women and men queueing for miles.”

Impatient, Mithian steps off the chair and yanks her underwear off in a quick pull, and then she’s pulling Morgana off the chair down next to her on the rug in the middle of the room, a large sheepskin that feels lovely against Morgana’s skin. “Not really, but then again, I don’t usually do this—”

“Oh?” Morgana pins Mithian’s arms above her head with one hand, sucking two fingers into her mouth before she trails down to circle at Mithian’s bellybutton, eventually shifting to where Mithian’s warm and wet and waiting. Mithian whimpers when Morgana pushes in again, with two fingers this time, and crooks them deep. “And yet here you are.”

Mithian arches against her, hot skin against her own. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you, today. You’re like a siren, with your gorgeous green eyes. Being so close to you just… made me think things. When you were bent over me in that one shoot, your face resting on the crook of my knee, all I could think about was you licking down my thigh and into me.”

“What a dirty mind you have there,” Morgana says, continuing to move inside her as she slides down Mithian’s body, a knowing expression on her face. “What makes you so sure I wasn’t thinking the same?”

Morgana thinks Mithian opens her mouth to reply, but then Morgana’s kissing and flicking her tongue out at Mithian’s clit, drawing the nub in to taste her and her wetness. Mithian utters a soft cry, burying her fingers in Morgana’s hair, pressing her down, and Morgana obliges, sucking and taking every bit of her in as she fucks her tongue inside around her fingers, licking her up as if she’d like to devour Mithian whole. “Morgana, _oh!_  Oh, fuck, I— that’s so fucking  _good_.” 

“You’re so classy you make ‘fuck’ sound posh,” Morgana comments between licks and sucks, scissoring her fingers inside a little for some variety before she pushes in and up, feeling Mithian tremble against her. She picks up the pace, taking Mithian’s clit in and flicking it in earnest with her tongue, and has the pleasure of hearing Mithian fall apart above her, crying out her name like a prayer as she comes into Morgana’s mouth.

Smirking, Morgana crawls up where Mithian’s lying back on the rug, boneless, and leans in to kiss her, letting Mithian taste herself. Mithian moans against her, filthy, drawing her perfectly painted nails down Morgana’s back, down the painted wyvern on Morgana’s left shoulder. “I like the way you say my name when you come,” Morgana whispers to the edge of Mithian’s lips, and smiles when Mithian flushes prettily. “I wonder if I can make you do that again.”

Mithian checks the clock on the wall, and turns back to wink at Morgana before she flips Morgana over on her back, climbing over her and kissing the back of her neck, sucking a mark there. The shoot won’t catch that. Morgana sighs into it, murmuring Mithian’s name, slipping into a moan when Mithian snakes a hand down Morgana’s back and touches her lightly where she wants to be touched and tasted and fucked, down there, just a teasing brush. “You can try again later,” Mithian says, devilish now, like a rogue. “For now, it’s your turn. We’ve got another forty minutes.”

“I rather like the sound of that.” Morgana laughs, and when Mithian pushes two fingers into her, a rough, lovely burn, they stop talking entirely and fall together in a sweet rhythm.

Now, if only all photoshoots had lunch breaks like this.

_fin_


End file.
